


The Story of Light (and Dark, Romance, Comedy and Everything In Between)

by jaemhugs



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Awkward Romance, Bad Decisions, Bad Flirting, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Commentary, Deaf Character, Ensemble Cast, Eventual Romance, Flashbacks, Hair Dyeing, High School, Humor, M/M, Mentioned Bangtan Boys Ensemble, Mentioned Other K-pop Artist(s), Mentioned Park Jimin (BTS), Minor Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin, Oblivious, Panic Attacks, Partying, Radio, Romance, Stress Relief, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, about the underage warning it's just that they're kissing v intensely, but so is kibum, but that's purely platonic, jjong is actually oblivious, jjong is bad at driving, sorry in advance for chapter 12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-28 16:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaemhugs/pseuds/jaemhugs
Summary: tl;dr: All five of your typical high school stereotypes, in one friend group called SHINee.Starring:- The Guy That Owns All Of The Brain Cells In The Group- The Poetic And Sentimental Radio DJ- The Guy That Is Kind Of Edgy And Likes To Be On Roofs Despite Having Acrophobia- The Guy That's Really Nice And Has Lots Of Instagram Followers But Only Wants His Four Friends- The Dancing Ball Of Stress And Anxiety That Just So Happens To Be Deaf





	1. Hello

Taemin really didn’t need to go back to school on Friday afternoon. He was given permission to attend a dance competition that he had been anticipating for the whole year. 

But he went back. It couldn’t hurt, right? It wasn’t going to take a part of his whole day or anything. Besides, would it kill him to meet Jongin and Jimin after school?

No. It wouldn’t. 

He never really expected to win today. But anyway, he wasn’t even expected to have lived to where he was now.

\---

Taemin was born ten weeks early. He was a tiny baby, and honestly, he wasn’t really expected to make it through the night. But he did. He made it through the nights where his little heart nearly stopped pumping blood to his pea-sized toes; the nights where the only thing that kept him alive was a machine; the nights that his mother imagined taking his hands into her own, praying that he would pull through. He made it through day after day. 

After days, weeks, months of being in the hospital, Taemin was finally home, and his parents were able to touch his microscopic fingers and every strand of hair that sat on his head. And for the first time since July 18th, 2004, the stress that had once flooded them had fled.

Of course, it did come with some problems, like the fact that Taemin never reacted when the doors were slammed. A visit with the pediatrician lead to a visit to an audiologist, who delivered the fact that Taemin was, in fact, deaf.

\---

He decided to go upstairs to the gymnasium to see if either of his friends were there. He peeked through the glass windows. Rather than spotting his friends first, however, a tall, lean figure with thick, brown hair caught his eye. At first sight, it might’ve been Jongin, but then Taemin remembered that his friend had bleached his hair blond that weekend. 

It appeared that the class in there were doing the pacer test. Instead of continuing to search for the petite figure that belonged to Jimin, or the pale hair of Kai (believe me, Taemin tried to focus on looking for them), his eyes kept tracing back to the boy that he first noticed. Muscular, with a confident smile on his face, he was one of the few people still able to keep up with the rapidly increasing beats of the pacer test. 

Actually, Taemin had never seen the boy before. He had never seen those big eyes, or that bright grin, or those lips; oh, those lips looked so goddamn kissable...

“Taem?”

Whipping around, not with the same grace that he had when he was dancing, Taemin saw Jongin standing right in front of him. What if he literally had heart eyes just then, or if he was saying his thoughts out loud?

“Oh, hey, Kai,” he said in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“Were you-” Jongin began.

_This is the point where Jongin points out that I was mumbling about how gorgeous that boy was, isn’t it? Deny everything, pretend that I don’t like him, he’s way out of my league, anyway._

Trying his hardest to change the subject, Taemin cut Jongin off hastily. Spoiler alert: his hardest was not his best.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder, how did your parents decide your name would be Kai? And how my parents decided my name was Taemin? And how your parents also decided your Korean name was Jongin? And how did that gorgeous boy in there,” Taemin asked hastily, pointing towards the gymnasium, “get his beautiful name from his amazing parents that brought him to this world?”

Jongin had a few questions, such as:

  * Has Taemin officially gone crazy?



\---

The pacer test was never difficult for Minho. 

He liked his previous school. He had a few friends there and he was a star soccer player on their team. 

Here? He knew no one. He hadn’t made any friends yet, soccer season hadn’t started up yet, and in class, he was known as the weird quiet kid that wasn’t a good student. 

If only he could prove himself as something. He wanted to be someone, somebody that people knew. 

Maybe the pacer test was his opportunity. He could picture it in his head - everyone else would have to catch their breath and stop running. Everyone except for him, of course - he was determined to be the last man standing. Well, the last man running. 

His mind was always on soccer - in class, on the train, at home, during training. Soccer was his world - he had posters, clothing, apparel - you name it, Minho had something of that nature from his favourite teams. If I haven’t made it clear enough yet, Minho loved soccer.

His classmates in his old school were soccer fanatics, too. But here, no one really talked about soccer. 

So he just smiled to make his way through. 

It wasn’t until level 12, when he noticed that there was a boy standing outside the hall. He was skinny, the same height (give or take a few inches) with long brown hair and it seemed as though he were looking for someone.

At level 13, Minho had an odd sense that the boy was watching him - not with malice, probably - but the boy was watching him intently. 

At level 15, the teacher switched the speakers off, putting an end to Minho’s first pacer test at this school. 

The hall was empty. No one really cared. 

\---

“Well, I’ll catch you later, Taem,” Kai said casually, after trying to get the older boy out of his daze. “You okay?”

Taemin looked up suddenly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. You?” 

Kai nodded. 

“See you at five?” Taemin asked.

“Sure.”

As Taemin watched Jongin leave, something else caught his attention. The boy running was now kicking a soccer ball around the gymnasium.

“Sup, Taem,” came a soft, soothing voice from behind. 

“Hey, hyung.” It was Jonghyun, one of his friends and three years his senior. 

“What’s up? You stalking someone?” Jonghyun asked in jest, but Taemin seemed to miss that.

“How did you know?” Taemin asked, surprised. 

“I just do. And it’s funny - when people know the other person is correct, they say ‘did’ but when the other person is wrong, it’s ‘do.’”

“Fine. You win.” Jonghyun laughed. 

“I know I did. So who is it?” Jjong persisted.

“There...there was a boy in the gymnasium doing the pacer test just now. And he was really good at it, and when he smiled, it was so cute, and when he pushed his hair to one side, it was so hot…”

“Taeminnie’s got a crush,” Jonghyun teased in an endearing way. “Are you just gonna let it go, or…?”

“I don’t know what to do, hyung,” Taemin admitted, exasperated.

“Let’s go introduce ourselves. He’s a new kid, I think. Kibum said that he doesn’t have many friends.”

When Jjong opened the gymnasium door, it fell upon him that it was warm inside; warmer than the hot summer day outside. 

“Hey, um...do you want the air conditioning on?” he asked. The boy nodded, picked the soccer ball up and went over to where Jonghyun and Taemin were standing.

“Are we allowed to switch the air conditioning on without a teacher here?” The voice sounded familiar to Jjong.

“Yeah. I’m Jonghyun, by the way. Kim Jonghyun. But you can call me Jjong.” Taemin appeared to be too lovestruck to speak, so Jonghyun did it for him. “And this is my friend, Lee Taemin.” 

The first thing that Minho realized, was that Jonghyun looked like a soft puppy. The second thing was that Taemin was really, really cute. “Oh, hi! I’m Choi Minho. I’m new here and no one’s really talked to me yet so it’s great to meet you guys…”

“...sorry.” 

In his head, he thought to himself, _Dammit, Minho, you’ve fucked up during the first human interaction here!_

“No, it’s fine!” Jjong said. His voice was sweet and soft; perfect for ASMR. “Hang on...I know you from somewhere! We used to be in the same kindergarten class!” 

\---

Jonghyun had a photographic memory. 

Everything that he ever felt - every scent, every color, every sound - he wrote about. And when he did, ink flowed from his pen like waterfalls and rivers. 

Did I mention he was a writer? Specifically, a poet?

He spent every opportunity he got writing. It was his escape; his fresh air - the sweet, cold air that he still remembered from that three-day trip in November of the fifth grade. It came with waking up at six in the morning and standing on the patio every morning in the countryside, with orange and red leaves scattering at his bare feet that were pale with cold. His dark blue jacket’s hood covered the top of his head, but wind still rippled through his white blond hair. 

And he could draw that whole scene from memory, too. He was a poet and an artist, something that his friends were so proud of that they ended up taking his phone to add ‘Poet | Artist’ to his Instagram bio. 

Besides writing, Jjong loved meeting new people and making friends. Making people feel happy was one of his favourite things because it made him happy too.

\---

It was quite the surprise for Jjong to hear from Kibum that Minho hadn’t made any friends yet. From what he remembered in kindergarten, Minho was loved a lot by his classmates, who weren’t quite sure on whether they liked him a lot because he was really good at soccer, or because he was good looking, or because he was actually a nice person.

Anyway, at this point in time, Jonghyun decided that he wanted to make Minho feel less lonely. 

Minho thought for a minute, before he clapped his hands. “Oh my gosh, I remember you! You were the kid that all the teachers loved!”

Jonghyun laughed, his cheeks turning pink. Turning to Taemin, he asked, “Do you remember that time when you ate crayons?”

Now it was Taemin’s turn to blush. He finally spoke; without thinking, really. “I thought everyone did that!” His eyes crinkled at the sides.

“I did too!” Minho interjected.

“What?” the two other boys said at the same time - Taemin out of surprise; Jjong because he thought that no one in their right minds would eat crayons. 

“And a rock, too,” Minho added.

“Well, when Kibum comes around to asking you whether you’ve eaten a rock - yeah, it’s a weird dialect expression - you can say you have,” Jonghyun replied, because that was all that he could really think to say in that moment. 

“Bet you can’t beat this - I ate an ant when I was little,” Taemin said. Minho laughed, and Jjong facepalmed, as if it were a story that he witnessed and didn’t want to remember it.

“You’re right, I can’t. But we have more important matters,” Minho whispered.

From kindergarten, Jonghyun still remembered that whenever Minho said anything about ‘important matters,’ it would always end in someone getting pranked.

But Taemin didn’t know that, so he asked, “Like what?” 

“Like making Jonghyun-hyung eat crayons.”

“What?” Jjong asked sharply.

“I mean, I’ve eaten a crayon before, and Taemin has too,” Minho said.

Taemin, cottoning on, smirked evilly and look at Jjong. “Kibum-hyung did too.”

Now that the two mentioned it, Jonghyun vaguely remembered Jinki mentioning that he ate a crayon when he was younger, too. 

“They’ve always told us to be careful; to not be peer pressured by drugs. I didn’t know that I was going to be peer pressured into eating crayons, too,” Jonghyun mused.

The trio entered an empty classroom. Opening the top drawer, Taemin found a box of fresh crayons.

“Look, hyung, they’re even new. The ones I ate were used by a bunch of slimy two-year-olds,” he joked, trying to make light of the not-so-pleasant situation.

“Do I really have to?” 

A chorus of yes’s came from the younger two boys.

Minho opened the box of crayons, and beckoned Taemin towards him. “Which one do you think he should eat?”

Taemin stood next to the older boy, his chin resting comfortably on the other’s shoulder.

\---

Minho never had relationship experience, but he always dreamed of his significant other leaning on his shoulder.

People often thought that as a soccer player, he just wasn’t that deep, or that he was dumb. The truth was that while he wasn’t a good student, he did like to read romance novels. After poring after book after book, picturing scene after scene, he imagined what it’d be like, before his mind built small fantasies of his future love life.

Of all the daydreams he had that didn’t include being part of the team that won South Korea the World Cup, his favourite one was his boyfriend or girlfriend leaning on his shoulder. He liked imagining his partner being tired after a long day and cuddling up to him and just resting there, as if it were some kind of safe place for them. He wanted them to feel safe there. 

He just wanted someone to lean on his shoulder.

What Taemin was doing right then was good enough for him.

\---

“Not the blue one,” Taemin replied. “I ate the blue one, and it tasted like a cotton swab. All plastic-y and sour and...”

Jonghyun was tempted to ask why Taemin knew what a cotton swab tastes like, but then again, it was Taemin.

“Hang on, you were the reason why my skies and oceans were always purple, or green, or black, but never blue?” Jjong asked incredulously. “You were the reason why the school nurse referred me to an eye doctor? I still remember her calling my mom and saying that I should get my eyes checked!” 

“Hang on, hyung,” Minho said, “why did she tell you to see an eye doctor?”

“They thought I was colorblind!”

Minho took out a white crayon. “I guess that if we’re stealing crayons…”

“It’s not stealing if our parents are paying money to the PTA,” Taemin interrupted.

“If we’re stealing crayons, we should take the most useless one. The white one.”

“That’s racist, Minho,” Jonghyun defended the white crayon. “I always drew polar bears with that crayon.”

“What color was your paper?” Taemin asked.

“White.” Realizing how stupid the three-year-old him was, Jonghyun laughed.

“Just a bite, hyung,” Minho said, trying to convince Jjong to eat the crayon.

“Alright, alright. But no more after that, okay?” 

The two younger boys promised. When Jjong took a bite out of the crayon, he chewed it, the waxiness sticking to his teeth. It tasted awful - like that medicine that he once took when he had tonsillitis. It was the same color, too. 

After he swallowed the crayon, he gagged and ran to the bathroom to spit it out.

Minho and Taemin high-fived and laughed. From that point, they knew they were going to be good friends.

 _Or maybe even more than that_ , Taemin thought to himself while smiling a little.

\---

Minho was having an internal debate as to whether or not he should say what he wanted to say all afternoon. In the end, the heart won over the mind, and he opened his mouth to tell Taemin exactly what he wanted the younger boy to know.

“I already like you a lot, Taem.”


	2. Good Evening

“How was the soccer trial?” Taemin asked, once Minho got into the car.

“Yeah, it was cool,” he replied. “Really think I should’ve worn my knee brace, though.”

The car door opened. “Ayo,” said the boy who opened the door. “Ah, hey! Are you Minho?” 

Obliged by convention, Minho nodded. “What’s your name?”

At the same time, the other boy replied with, “Oh, you’re new, right?”

Minho blinked a few times. “Your name is Onew?” It was a little bit of an odd name. Of course he didn’t say it out loud, but that was what he was thinking. 

“You’re turning into me, hyung,” Taemin quipped, before gesturing to his left ear. 

“Why? What does that mean?” Minho asked, plugging his phone into his charger. 

“Can’t hear y’all.”

\---

Fifth grade. Writing prompt: describe a time when you felt scared. 

Taemin was a fearless - to the point of recklessness, maybe - child. Nothing could scare him, not even roller coasters, or haunted houses. His parents had suggested writing about his deafness, but then he realized that he wasn't scared about being deaf in the left ear because he had never known life with hearing in that ear. In the end Taem wrote something stupid, like the time when he got an injection. 

Now, however, he would've written something very different. 

He always relied on his right ear’s 40% of hearing left to get the sounds while he lip read, but over the recent few months, he felt that things were becoming quieter than they should’ve been. Even his hearing aid wasn't helpful anymore. It had never been helpful to his left ear, but to his right ear, it had provided some support with his hearing. 

He wanted to tell his parents that his world was slowly spiralling into a black silence, but he knew that they would overreact completely. If he told them that his right ear was going deaf too, they would panic and send him to the audiologist so that he could get those pesky implants put in. And once he would get them put in, he wouldn't be able to hear music anymore. 

He was so tempted to tell them, though. He could not bear living in a silent environment. 

But he didn’t tell just yet. He decided to rely on what he estimated to be 20% of his hearing until it gave out on him and he would have to face the undeniable fate of getting implants.

Maybe he didn’t want to admit it, but getting implants may not have been too bad.

But he knew that now, he would've written about the sounds that were disappearing from him, the sounds, as well as the ability to hear with his right ear, spiralling into a silent abyss.

\---

The boys laughed. “No,” Jjong explained, “his name is Jinki. But I think that we’ll be calling him Onew from now on.” He winked and started the radio up in the car.

“Oh!” And then Minho smiled and laughed as well. “Hyung, aren’t you doing a radio recording later?” 

“No,” Jonghyun replied bitterly, as if he had sucked a lemon. “They’re using the studio for the music department or something. But anyway, how was soccer?”

“Hmm, it went okay, I guess.”

“You’ll do fine,” Jinki assured him. “Don’t worry.” 

Minho laughed and brushed his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “How did you know I was worried?”

“Jinki-hyung can read minds. Jjong-hyung taught him how,” Taemin explained. Slipping off his shoes, he put his feet up on the dashboard and turned to Jonghyun. “Where's Kibum-hyung?” 

Jjong shrugged, squeezing the wheel. “Probably smoking on the roof.” 

\---

Mentioning a rooftop reminded Jjong of the time when the seventh grade went to the countryside for their retreat, and on the last night, there was a couples’ dance. 

Jjong was single, and so was Kibum. Having nothing to do on that night, since everyone else was having the time of their lives, they decided to climb onto their first roof ever. It was just over three meters tall, and they only had to climb onto a fence to be able to reach the roof. 

Jjong still remembered what the thrill was like, to be able to climb onto the roof without anyone seeing the two. He still remembered feeling so rebellious, like he were breaking all the rules of the damn place. He still remembered what it felt like when Kibum played with his hair - the black silk with white roots covering the younger boy’s fingers. He still remembered sitting next to Kibum, talking about their futures and how they’d get girlfriends one day, and how they’d eventually have kids, and how they’d meet on Sundays and their kids would play together…

Of course, thinking back now, Jjong realized that he only wanted Key.

Just Key; no one else. 

\---

“Yeah, probably. I can go find him; we were there last time together when we smoked.”

“I didn’t know you smoked, Minho,” Jjong said. Minho just smiled a little. “Doesn't it affect your ability to play soccer?” 

“Not yet,” Minho laughed. “I’ve only done it, say, twice.”

“It's just tobacco, right?” Jinki asked. 

“Yeah. I've tried spinach once.” He grimaced at the memory. “It was awful.”

“Taeminnie vaped before, when he really shouldn't have, since he's asthmatic,” Jjong said. Minho laughed again. 

“What flavour, Taem?” Minho asked. 

“Marshmallow,” Taemin replied back. Wondering out loud, he said, “Can I do one real quick?” 

“No!” Jjong yelled. “Kibum hates seeing you suffer after you vape. And speaking of which, get your feet off his dashboard.”

“Sorry?” 

Jjong sighed and reached for the feather duster in his backpack (don’t ask). “Get,” he said, brandishing the duster at the youngest boy. “Your feet. Off. Kibum’s. Dashboard. Otherwise. He’ll. Kill. Me.”

“Not me?”

“No, he’ll end me first because I’m driving his car today and if I don’t take care of the car, he’ll use potato peelers to collect my skin and use it in the name of fashion, before ripping my windpipe out and making a fucking kazoo out of it.”

“Was that word for word, hyung?” Minho asked. 

“Indeed.”

“Can’t Kibum-hyung drive instead?” Taemin asked, his feet still on the dashboard. 

“Am I a bad driver?” 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes. I mean, no…”

“I think you're a good driver,” Minho interjected. Taemin opened his mouth to stick his tongue out, before he yawned. Minho grabbed a piece of paper, crumpled it up and pretended to throw it in, yelling, “Basket!” This time, Taemin stuck his tongue out again. 

“Can Kibum-hyung drive?” Taemin asked again.

“No, you little shit. I can’t give directions, but I know how to get home.”

“What happened to your own car?” Jinki asked, while trying to get Taemin to move his feet off the dashboard.

“I accidentally backed into Roo’s dog house so I panicked, thinking she was in there. Then I drove forward and hit a tree.”

“But wasn’t she sitting right next to you?” Taemin asked.

“Yep. And Taem, please - just get your feet off Kibum’s dashboard. He’s gonna come any moment now.” He brandished the feather duster again.

As if on cue, enter Kibum, who was eating cereal at four in the afternoon. “Sorry about the wait, guys,” he remarked, gesturing to his bowl of cereal as if to explain his lateness.

“No problemo. You ready to get going?”

“Let’s go. And don’t wreck my car.”

\---

When Jjong parked into the driveway (no accidents, thank goodness), they were instantly greeted by Roo the puppy, and Jjong’s sister, Sodam, basically tackled the kids into a hug. 

“I haven’t seen you in, what, two months now?” she said to Jjong.

\---

The truth was that Jonghyun was always staying at the broadcasting studio until two in the morning to film Blue Night Jonghyun. And then they’d barely see each other in the mornings as well, given that the siblings were both basically falling asleep into their breakfast (despite how much their mother reprimanded the two of them). 

Sodam had to admit - she missed Jjong a lot when he was away for so many months at a time. She missed everything about him, from his sweet and caring personality, to his hoodies and sweaters even in the heat of summer, to his soft hair, to his ability to make Roo stop crying at two in the morning, to strands of white hairs that she would find around the house from time to time (hair masks, Kibum said).

And she worried about him a lot. She would worry that he wasn’t sleeping enough, or that he didn’t have time to do things other than doing homework and managing the radio show, or that he was lonely during the times that it was just him in the library doing work. 

But she learnt that when she did see him, like over the weekends that he wasn’t in the studio doing a six-hour long Blue Night and she wasn’t at track and field, or volleyball, or lacrosse, or hockey, or any of the many sports that she did, it was better to enjoy the time together than worry about when they would next see each other.

\---

“You must be Minho!” Sodam exclaimed. “You know, Jjong was texting me non-stop about how you guys used to go to kindergarten together.”

“Ah, my children are here. And you must be my newest child! Call me Eunkyung,” Jjong’s mom said. “I’ve got sweet potato fries in the oven right now, and they’ll be done in five minutes. Dinner’s at seven. Help yourselves to the drinks, guys. We have water, Pepsi, Sprite, Fanta and soju, but I doubt that you guys are allowed to drink that.” Then she turned to look at Jinki and winked at him.

“Maybe you can, but you’ll have to ask your parents.” Then she laughed. “What year were you born in, Minho? Are you old enough to drink one?”

“‘02, Mrs. Kim. Same as Kibum.”

“It’s Eunkyung, dear. No need to be so formal. And no, you can’t have a soju then. You’ll have to wait until you’re older.”

“Can I have a soju please?” Kibum asked. 

“You’ll have to ask your mom or your dad,” Eunkyung said while she began dicing carrots. 

“I just did.” Seven pairs of eyes stared at him, including Sodam, Eunkyung and Roo. 

“When? You were talking to my mom this entire time!” Jjong laughed. 

“I asked her if I could have a soju. Isn’t that asking my mom?”

The boys laughed, but Sodam just ruffled his hair, knowing that he was serious. 

\---

Eunkyung was the loving mother Kibum missed in his early childhood years.

Kibum was the brother that Jjong longed for.

All of Kibum’s favourite childhood memories were at Jjong’s house. 

He had one favourite in particular, also known as the Hair Dye Incident of ‘13, which I will do you readers the great service of recounting this story to you.

Thanks to his hair being naturally white blond, Jjong didn’t need to bleach his hair. 

“It can’t hurt, right? It’ll be blue for a few months, and then it’ll have gone back to blond again, right?” Jonghyun had said when he, Sodam and Kibum locked themselves inside the bathroom.

“Good luck getting away with that one,” Sodam replied, picking up a few strands of Jjong’s white blond hair. “It was a shock and a half when you were born and your hair was completely white.”

“What did your parents say when they saw your hair?” Kibum asked. Jjong shrugged and turned to his sister.

“What did Mom say?” he repeated Key’s question. 

“Mom was in love with it. When she touched it for the first time, she was amazed with how soft and light it was. And then she nearly freaked out when it kept getting lighter and lighter.”

Jjong smiled a little, before handing the box of hair dye to Sodam. “What does it say to do?” 

“I thought you could read,” she replied sarcastically. 

“Too lazy,” Jjong answered, and so she turned to Kibum. 

“Too stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Kibummie,” she interjected, as if it were a reflex. But still, she read the instructions out loud. 

“‘Apply dye to hair evenly and then wait thirty minutes before washing.’ Sit still, Jjong.” He sat on the bathroom counter, and Key and Sodam climbed up, ready to start dyeing his hair. 

And then, Kibum just ended up dumping a whole tube of hair dye on the top of Jjong’s hair. 

“Oh,” Key said quietly.

“...shit,” Sodam finished, in equal volume. Both of their faces were as pale as Jjong’s hair, with fear and worry shining off their faces. 

“What do we do?” Kibum mouthed.

“I don’t know!” Sodam mouthed back.

“Um...guys? I think some hair dye’s dripping down my face,” Jjong said innocently, blissfully unaware of the fact that only the middle of his head was blue. 

Sodam grabbed a towel, and then she gasped. She began mopping his forehead up, not worrying that what used to be a white towel was now stained with blue. 

“Hyung, your eyebrow is blue,” Kibum explained nervously, holding Jjong’s hair off his forehead.

“What if I shaved it?”

“That,” Sodam replied, examining the tragedy of his blue hair, “is in no way a good idea.”

Did he listen?

Nope.

And that’s how Jjong ended up walking around with one eyebrow and blue hair for a few months.

I should also mention that the day after this incident, a flower pot fell on Kibum’s head.

They soon set a trend called the ‘lack of one eyebrow.’

\---

When Kibum said what he said, Eunkyung could swear that her heart fucking melted.

\---

After Jonghyun’s first day at kindergarten, the first thing that Eunkyung asked was, “Oh, who’s this, baby?”

After the second day, it was, “Hello, Jjong; hello, Kibum. Sweet potato fries and apple juice for snack?”

After Kibum was a little bit older and understood why his mother couldn’t take care of him much, he told Eunkyung some of the story, and then it became, “Hello, my daughter and my two sons.”

\---

Eunkyung cleared her throat a little and wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve. Once she gained her composure again, she looked at Kibum through her red eyes.

“Well, then. Speaking from your mother’s point of view, Mr. Kim Kibum, I’m going to say no soju until you’re 18. But you guys can have the other drinks. I’ll leave you guys be, okay?”

They nodded. And then, Minho noticed something a little odd.

“Taem, where’s your hearing aid?” 

“In my bag.” And then he laughed, as if it weren’t that much of a big deal.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing it?” Sodam asked. He shrugged. 

“What do you mean?” Jinki said. “When did you take it off?”

“Chemistry class. The teacher thought I was wearing headphones in class, so he made me take it off. It’s no big deal, don’t worry!” he exclaimed when he saw the concerned looks that his hyungs and noona wore on their faces.

Kibum frowns, and was about to say something rather biting in response to that. But Jjong cut in calmly. “What happened?”

“Okay. Seriously, I wasn’t doing anything that would get me in trouble.”

“We weren’t saying that, Taem,” Jjong replied.

“I know. But it’s my disposition.”

“What’s your disposition?” Minho asked. At that moment, he really wanted to pick Taeminnie up and put him in his lap. 

“Trouble is my disposition.”

\---

Taemin was honestly quite the little troublemaker since he was young. 

The troublemaker gene wasn’t really ingrained in his brother, though. And it wasn’t for the rest of his family - just look at Jinki. It seemed to be a combination of the fact that he couldn’t hear someone telling him not to do something, that he was the youngest child, and that he was born premature, so his parents kind of let him get away with a bit more.

In kindergarten, he ate crayons, rocks and ants. That alone was enough to get him in trouble twice a day, but it was also important to consider all the other shit he got up to, like being told to colour the flower orange and instead colouring it red, just because it was his favourite colour.

When things went wrong with his interpersonal relations with the teachers, he kind of just brushed it off because in all honesty, most of them hated him anyway. 

He wasn’t a bad student, and he really didn’t mean any harm. It’s just that most of the teachers really hated a kid that rocked the chair back and forth, drummed the table using pencils and leaving ten post-it notes at a time on Jongin’s desk the second he wasn’t looking. 

But really, he just liked to bring some fun to the classroom by causing a little bit of mischief. Like I said, he was just a small child that didn’t bite and didn’t mean any malice.

\---

“But anyway, I really was innocent at that moment. No table drums, no post-its at Kai. But he just kinda looked in my direction, and asked whether I was listening to music.”

“But you weren’t!” Kibum interjected. It was like he was waiting for a moment to say something in defence of Taem.

“I can’t even use headphones because I can’t hear anything. But I just sat there and shook my head. And then he told me to take them off.” He closed his eyes and rubbed them.

“What’s wrong, Taem?” Minho asked. “Don’t cry. Our poor maknae is crying.”

Taemin laughed. “I’m not crying!”

“That’s exactly what someone who was crying would say,” Kibum accused, his voice teasing. 

“No, seriously. I’m not crying. My eyes are just tired from constantly lip reading.” 

In a chorus (featuring Roo, who barked along), everyone else said, “Then put your hearing aid on!”

Taemin just laughed and rummaged through his backpack, until he found it. He put in his ear, switched it on and then frowned. 

“Shit. I think I broke it. I can’t hear any difference”

The boys weren’t too surprised, really - it was his ‘magic hands’ trait that did this. But Sodam’s face was full of concern. 

Seeing how upset Taem looked, Sodam asked, “Can I take a look? Maybe it’s something we can fix.” Taemin took it off and let her take a look at the device. He sniffled a little.

“Don’t cry, Taem,” Jinki said hastily. “You never know, we might be able to fix it, right? When did you last change your battery?”

“Three weeks ago. I guess it could use a change.” He took a new battery out from his bag and replaced the old one. When he turned it back on and put it back in his ear, his face fell yet again.

“No difference?” Jjong asked. Taemin shook his head.

“Nothing. No difference” He took it out of his ear and sighed. A single tear ran down his cheek, and that was how he felt, despite being surrounded by his friends - all sad and alone. He wiped it away with his sleeve. “Part of the tube’s broken, I think.”

He wasn’t sure about what he was going to do. It costed so much for another hearing aid, and given his current state of hearing, his parents would probably just make him get implants. He felt so lost, and detached without his hearing, just like how the tubing was on his hearing aid.

But he did have to admit that he only just realized the comfort of Jinki, Jonghyun, Kibum, Minho and Sodam’s embrace that he never wanted to leave him.


	3. Sentimental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of jongkey here which is weird because
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MINHO WE LOVE YOU
> 
> but anyway i wrote this in october with no idea of when i'd publish this so...sorry for lack of minho/jinki/taemin!!
> 
> this chapter's title is the song from poet artist btw
> 
> jjong's nominated for an album daesang:))) let's get our poet|artist the award he deserves
> 
> jinki's enlisting tomorrow so good luck, come back healthy and safe; we'll be waiting for you!!

Jjong wasn’t in the library, and he wasn’t in the studio. The poet had failed his maths test, and because the boy was a perfectionist, he took it ‘pretty badly,’ according to Jinki.

Usually, people wouldn’t worry if they heard that their best friend/lover/brother took something ‘pretty badly.’ This, of course, was assuming that said best friend/lover/brother wasn’t Jjong. 

So Kibum decided to call him, and there was no reply. Sodam, if Key’s memory was correct, was busy at something like a college lacrosse game, so she wouldn’t pick up either. So he decided to call Jjong’s mom.

“Hello? Mom?”

“Jjong- no...Kibummie?” It was funny, in a way - after all this time, Eunkyung had never been able to tell the two of them apart, even when both of their contacts were saved in her phone. 

At the same time, the two of them asked each other, “Where is Jjong?”

“Mom…?”

“Key…?”

“Y-you don’t know where Jonghyun-hyung is?”

“No, honey. I thought he was with you.”

“I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. Let me know if you find him.”

Kibum sprinted off to where he thought Jjong may have been, and he prayed with all his might that the older boy was there. He had gone there before when he got a bad grade in physics, just to sit there and look at the stars and the moon that he loved, and it was equally as likely that he was there, or at least, Kibum hoped he was. Because if he wasn’t, then where was he?

\---

The last few days had seemed to go by in a blur for Taemin.

It all started when he told his parents that his hearing aid was broken. They panicked (like he predicted) and booked an appointment for him to see a specialized doctor for an x-ray.

Jinki and Minho had agreed to go with the younger boy. Because the truth was that they knew that Taem was incredibly nervous, and if Minho had to admit it, he had a huge crush on Taemin.

\---

Minho liked boys with their bangs hanging in their eyes - it was shallow, yes, but he liked that. 

When he saw this boy with his slim frame and his thick eyelid creases and a hearing aid wrapped around his right ear, he was instantly in love with the aesthetic. Again, it was shallow; Minho knew that. But there was more to Minho’s desiring heart that longed for Taemin’s reciprocating love. 

After making Jjong eat a crayon, and seeing Taemin’s mischievous streak with the post-it notes on Jongin’s desk, Minho really liked this little troublemaking kid.

And the love was driving him crazy. He knew that he was ready to lie his life down for this boy.

\---

Taemin was honestly terrified when the doctor told him to get into the white tube to do an x-ray. 

And Jinki knew this. He remembered that when he was three and his dad began pacing around the house nervously, making phone calls to Taem’s dad every hour. It wasn’t long until Jinki discovered that Taemin was born too early, there was something wrong with the insides of his ears, and he was just too small for it to be okay. 

Since then, doctors, ENTs, speech therapists, physiologists and so many -ists were swarming Taemin at all times. And for the three-year-old him, this was terrifying - who were these strangers, why were they putting him in white tubes and why did he have to do this?

He hadn’t been to most of these doctors for a while now, so he thought his fear of the x-ray machine was over. But when they told him to lie down, he realized how terrified he was. 

\---

_Please. Please be there._

Kibum mumbled these words to himself as he sprinted to their primary school. And then, when he got there, he dashed up the stairs and vaulted over the fence on the top floor, not caring that there could’ve been teachers watching him climb to the roof.

“Jjong-hyung.”

“Kibummie.”

“Fuck, hyung...why are you up here on your own?”

With eyes filled with tears, Jjong looked up at Kibum. “Fuck. I hate this, Key. This whole ‘life’ thing is so shit, you know? To fail a subject that you need to pass, otherwise you can’t go to university? I hate the fact that my mom is alone apart from my sister and me. She has to hang out with other moms that brag about their intellectually gifted children and brilliant husbands. I can't stand listening to the recounts of how she has to just sit and listen. She doesn't have the brilliant husband she deserves, and I can't even help a little by being the intellectually gifted son she should have.” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “I can’t stand this, Kibum. I can’t fucking stand it. Do you ever overthink about why your life is shit, or why the people you love have shitty lives, and then realize that you’re the source of your own pain? Because it hurts so fucking much and you don’t know which way to turn or whether you’re going the right way and you don’t know what to do.” He finished his rant with his voice cracking and then trailing off, his tears threatening to spill over.

\---

Since the age of five, Kibum realized that Jjong tended to blame himself for shit, and then blame himself for blaming himself. This would usually go on until he dehydrated himself from crying. 

For example, in a first grade phonics class, Poet Jjong ‘supper’ as ‘subber,’ thus marking his first spelling mistake in the history of time, he would keep it in until the two of them would go to his house, and Eunkyung would call the two down for supper, which was _not to be mistaken for subber,_ quote Jjong-nim the poet, and he would cry so hard that he would not eat his mandu, not even if Kibum tried to persuade him to _eat your dinner or you'll get hungry, Jjongie,_ quote Kibum.

It was so much simpler back then, when the two of them were friends; only friends, nothing more than that. It was so much easier to cheer Jjong up when he was sad by simply giving him a cookie. It was so much easier to get him out of his sadness when he made mistakes, for it was like pulling him up from a puddle and not like the ocean. Mistaking a ‘p’ for a ‘b’; that was nothing like screwing up the quadratic formula. 

And Kibum knew that he had to do something to help Jjong. Something beyond some mandu or an extra cookie. Something that Kibum desperately wanted to do, even though he knew that maybe it would be better if they stayed as friends and not any further. 

\---

A single tear ran down his cheek, and he whispered, “Kibummie, I don’t know what to do.”

And then Kibum took Jjong’s hand and the two interlaced their fingers together. Without saying a word, Jjong looked at Kibum as tears fell, and then he knew he wanted to do it. He stood on his toes so that his lips were level with the younger boy’s lips and leaned in ever so carefully, until their lips were barely a millimetre apart. Key could even feel Jonghyun’s warm tears as they slid down his face, and they were standing so close that even Kibum’s face was getting wet with the older boy’s tears.

Jjong wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders so that they were standing, if possible, even closer. Their lips gently brushed over each other for barely over a second, before Jjong lowered his heels and Kibum straightened out (which is ironic, since what they were doing was not straight in the slightest). 

“I-I never thought that I’d do that with you,” Kibum said quietly, sitting on the floor of the roof. “My best friend since kindergarten.” He smiled; those days were a mere memory now, but they were in both of their hearts forever.

“Me neither. Don’t cry, Kibummie.”

“Me, crying? No, these are your tears!” Key laughed, wiping Jjong’s tears off his face and brushing them on the older’s hoodie. 

“I haven’t cried lately,” Jjong admitted. Kibum scoffed defiantly. “What’s that supposed to mean? I haven’t!”

“If Jjong-nim’s idea of ‘not crying lately,’” Kibum replied, air quotes flying, “meant two days ago, then yeah, sure.”

Now it was Jjong’s turn to scoff. “Okay, that doesn’t count. It was one tear, Kibummie. One fucking tear. And I had a reason to cry! Taeminnie was really upset about his hearing aid.”

“Yeah, he was. Jinki-hyung said he’s at the doctor with Taemin and Minho right now; apparently, he’s getting fitted for a new one.”

“Should we ask them to come to our place later?” 

When Kibum heard the ‘our’ in ‘our place,’ he could swear that he was going to cry. Because it really did feel like home.

\---

“What time can I come tomorrow morning, Mom?” Kibum asked, Christmas Eve of ‘09

“You can come as early as you like, Kibummie,” Eunkyung told him. “Are you sure you’ll be okay to ride your bike here on your own?”

“Because if not, I can ride my bike to your house and take you here. I think he,” Sodam said, looking directly at her brother and then back at Key, “would be ecstatic to ‘leave the house at seven in the morning on our bikes.’ Quote directly from Jjong-nim.” She looked at Jjong again, who was drinking the milk that the three kids had laid out for Santa.

“I’m sorry! I just want some milk!” he said, before wiping his milk moustache off and getting the carton of milk out from the fridge (for the fifth time) and refilling the glass. “Say, what if we replaced it with coffee instead? That would keep him awake, and I wouldn’t drink it!” 

“Right then,” Eunkyung replied. She took Kibum’s shoes off for him, and then brought him back inside. “We’re making coffee for Santa.”

“Do people do that?” Kibum asked curiously, holding his tiny six-year-old hands out for the coffee beans. 

“No,” Sodam answered. “Only in houses with a tiny child called Jjong that likes to drink Santa’s milk.” Key put the coffee beans into the mug of warm water, and then Jjong picked the spoon up and began stirring it. 

“Perfect,” the older boy said. “Let me try it.”

Amid the screams of, “No, Jjong!” from his mother and sister, and the horrified gasp from Kibum, Jjong took a sip of it.

“This is nice.” And then he proceeded to finish the entire cup of coffee.

“Jonghyun!” his mom exclaimed, before taking the mug from him. And then, Jjong’s lower lip trembled.

“Am I on Santa’s naughty list now?” he whispered, tears in his eyes.

“No,” Sodam replied. “It’s too late. He’s already on his way, and he can’t change anything now.”

Jjong smiled. And then he smirked. Then he giggled, then chuckled, and then sprinted into the kitchen. 

“Don’t encourage him!” Eunkyung called from the study. But her son was already at it, reaching for more coffee beans. After he made himself another coffee, he gulped that one down too. 

“Delicious,” he pronounced, before sitting on the couch, shaking his left leg. 

“Don't do that,” Sodam said. “You'll shake luck out of your pocket.”

When Eunkyung came back, she took the coffee beans and put them on the top shelf. 

“Too bad I can't reach,” Jjong said in a mock disappointment. “If only I had something that I could stand on...hey, look! A chair!”

At once, Eunkyung and Sodam cried out, “Don't, Jjong! Don't look up there!”

“Why not?” He dragged the chair over and stood on it, before noticing a bag of dog food. 

“What's this? Why do we ha- oh…”

“Um...about that, Jjong,” Sodam said quietly after an awkward silence. 

“Oh. Kibummie’s a werewolf? Because it's totally fine if he is...but why was it kept a secret the whole time?”

“I'm not a werewolf!” Key laughed, before joining Jjong on the chair. “Yeah...why do we have dog food up here?”

“Alright, alright,” Eunkyung sighed. “I was hoping you two wouldn't find out about this until tomorrow, but…” She carried a large box in her arms, and she opened said box. Out sprung a tiny little black fur ball. 

“The whole situation’s kinda _byulroo_ ; I was hoping we could say hello to her on Christmas Day.” 

“What does _byulroo_ mean?” Kibum asked. 

While Sodam began to explain what it was, Jjong said, “It's her name.”

“Can she be Roo for short?” Kibum suggested. The two of them seemed to like that idea.

“Of course she can,” Eunkyung replied. “She's your dog as well, Key.”

In Kibum’s very unbiased opinion, he knew that every family needed a dog for it to be a full family. 

Maybe they weren't a family by blood, but Kibum knew that this is what he would grow up calling his family. 

\---

Choking up at this memory, Kibum was silent for a few moments.

“You okay, Key? We don't have to have them over. It can just be us two, right?”

“No, it’s fine, hyung. I...I was just thinking of a memory...when we found out about Roo on Christmas Eve…”

“Can we get the whole squad over later? After I finish with Blue Night? I'll record early tonight. And you can join me, too.”

“That would be great. I’d love to join you on Blue Night,” Key said, smiling. “And you should probably call your mom, too. She was worried about where you were.”

“Our mom, Kibum. She's your mom too. And my phone’s broken, remember? It’s been broken since I dropped it from the roof onto the playground.” 

“Right. I'll call Mom now,” the younger boy corrected himself, before pausing. “Get yourself a new phone, hyung.”


	4. Shinin' (Always Be With You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tuesday will be hard. i'll publish the next chapter in a few weeks' time.  
> for now, let me know if you need to talk. @dglrd11 on twitter.
> 
> you did well today. you worked hard.

“We can’t really have a surprise barbecue to celebrate ‘500 days with Blue Night’ for Jjong, without Jjong actually being able to join,” Jinki pointed out, feeling like he was stating the obvious, despite the fact that this had been forgotten. 

The three younger boys just looked at him and blinked, as if he were speaking some foreign language that none of them happened to be able to comprehend. 

“It’s like when Siwon-hyung wasn’t at his own birthday party. You get what I’m saying? We can’t celebrate with Jjong if he’s not here.”

“Oh!” Kibum exclaimed. “Wait, but what are we supposed to do? Bring the barbecue up to him?”

(Kibum didn’t actually mean that. But oh well.)

Jinki smiled. “That, Kibum, is a great idea.”

\---

Jjong was in the recording studio, sipping the cup that wasn’t filled with iced coffee like usual, but instead hot milk tea. The weather was getting colder, and despite the heating being turned on, and the fact that he was wearing two sweaters, winter bit him like a snake leeching on its prey.

And as winter’s fangs sank into his skin, he could feel loneliness diffuse into his blood, stabbing him like a sword covered in venom.

He missed his friends. He had no clue as to what they were up to, for every time he asked them this very question on the group chat, no one responded. Occasionally, he would see the three dots that meant that Kibum was typing, but to no avail. Whatever Key was typing disappeared, contrary to the feelings of loneliness setting in Jjong’s bones.

\---

Kibum couldn’t bear being without his other half. Jinki had given them all specific instructions not to message Jjong so that they wouldn’t leak any information about this barbecue, but Key was so tempted to at least send a picture with a hint as to what they were doing in order to satisfy the messages that were constantly asking where they were.

Not to mention, avoiding Jjong was even harder after their kiss the other day. Kibum, at that point, realized for once and for all that he was definitely in love with Jonghyun, and that there was nothing he could do about the growing love setting in his heart.

\---

**kimjjong:** kibummieeeeeeeee   
**kimjjong:** why aren’t you replying ;-;   
**kimjjong:** what are you doing right now   
**kimjjong:** can’t you at least give me a hint

**keybum:** 500 days ago was 22 june 2017   
**keybum:** that’s all i can tell you    
**keybum:** but i promise that you’ll find out soon

**kimjjong:** ok i love you

**keybum:** i love you too

Jjong switched his phone off, but then it started buzzing again.

“Kibummie?”

“Come to the roof, hyung.”

\--- 

Jjong walked up a flight of stairs before searching for an empty classroom. He climbed out of the window and up the ladder next to it, only to find his friends, who were setting up a barbecue grill.

He grinned. “What’s all this?” He covered his face in an embarrassed flattery, if you know what I mean. If not, well...it’s fine. Just know that Jjong was, for want of a better phrase, internally ecstatic about this surprise. 

“Think about it, hyung,” Kibum began. 

“What was 500 days ago?” Taemin asked helpfully. 

“22nd of June, 2017…”

“And what date was that?” Minho added. 

“The start date of...oh…” Jjong trailed off, as tears locked his throat up, his friends’ thoughtfulness getting him emotional. 

“So, you know…of course we have to celebrate 500 days of Blue Night,” Jinki explained. “Sit down, we would've been able to start eating if the four of us didn't collectively forget to take the meat off the grill when it was done.”

“It's fine, don't worry about it,” Jjong replied, brushing his tears away. “Seriously, thanks so much for this, guys.” And then another round of tears came. “Can you guys be guests for Blue Night tonight?”

“Of course,” the four other boys answered. 

Suddenly, Kibum came from behind and rubbed Jjong’s shoulders. “So, 500 Blue Nights, huh?” He rested his cheek on the top of the older boy’s head. “I'm proud of our Jjongie-hyung.”

\---

At first, Jjong wasn't even sure if this whole radio DJ would work out for him. 

Yes, he was talkative, and yes, he had a good music taste. But was he actually going to be good enough to host for over an hour, making other people, not just himself, happy?

“I don't know if I could fill that spot though, Kibummie. Maybe I could be a good radio DJ, but I couldn't possibly fill the shoes of my predecessor.”

“Yeah, but I'm sure many people would love you, hyung,” Kibum had replied. “You do have a good taste in music, and you have a voice like...well, a radio host.”

Eventually, Kibum convinced Jjong to become the school’s new radio DJ, a decision that the latter didn't regret until his first broadcast, when he realized how nerve wracking this entire ordeal was.

“What if I fuck up?” 

“You won't. You'll do just fine.”

“But what if I do? What if I actually do mess up?”

Kibum took one of the two silver rings on his left thumb. They were identical, and he always wore them. 

“Here,” he said, sliding the ring on Jjong’s thumb, the same finger as his own. “If you wear this…”

“This is yours, Kibummie. Not mine. Yours.”

“And now it's yours,” Key answered right back. “If you wear this, you won't fuck up. It's an anti-fuck-up ring.”

And when Jjong finished his first recording and the ‘recording’ light switched off Kibum bursted in, bags of food in hand. “You did so well, hyung.”

\---

It was dark out by the time the boys had to go inside for Blue Night. 

“Fuck,” Taemin remarked. “Um...guys? I can't see. And I can't hear, either. Nor can I lip read, for that matter.” 

Whatever his hyungs replied, he had no idea. He panicked, and his arms flailed around a little, trying to search them out in the dark, until he found someone. He moved his right hand up to their neck, and his left to their lips, trying to guess what they were saying by feeling for it. If he couldn't hear, and he couldn't see, he would have to go for the next best sense. 

_ _aemi_  w_a_ are you _oing?  _ was all he could feel. Still, it was enough to infer the meaning of the sentence. 

(“Taemin, what are you doing?” was what the other boy had said, which was understandable since Taemin’s tight grip made him feel as though he were being suffocated to death.)

“Feeling your words.”

_ O___. Um...__o__-_yung, what _o I _o? _

(“Okay. Um...Jjong-hyung, what do I do?”)

Then a flashlight was turned on. 

“Taemin-ah,” Jjong said, the flashlight on his lips. “Don't worry, okay? We’ll get down eventually.”

“Okay.” 

The light brushed over Minho’s lips. “Want me to carry you?” 

Taemin just laughed. “It's okay, hyung. But...um...thank you.”

As the five boys approached the edge of the roof, they realized how far it was from the roof to the sixth floor. Minho turned the light on his phone on and faced Taem. 

“You sure? It's a pretty far drop down.”

Taemin hesitated for a moment, before nodding and wrapping his arms and legs around the older boy.

\---

Taemin was in no way heavy. If anything, Minho could feel the boy’s ribs poke him in the sides, he was so skinny. 

But he was grateful for all the times in his old school that he had to do weight lifting training and running laps for soccer practice. If it weren't for that, he would be skinny and weak, unable to lift more than thirty pounds. 

It was thanks to that, that he was on the soccer team. It was thanks to that, that he was the fastest runner in his class. It was thanks to that, that he could run a mile in six minutes. 

But nothing could compare to the fact that it was thanks to soccer training, that he was able to literally pick up guys. 

\---

_ _o_’_ ___ _o, o_ay? _

(“Don’t let go, okay?” Minho told the younger boy.)

“Okay,” Taemin replied as the taller boy dropped from the ladder onto the window ledge of the top floor.

\---

Once the boys got back into the studio, Jjong helped to get everything set up. It didn't seem so long ago that he had no idea how any of the microphones worked, or how to play music using the system in there. 

“Are you guys ready? This is, funnily enough, the first time we've had everyone here for Blue Night,” Jjong laughed. 

“Has Sodam-noona been on before?” Jinki asked. 

“No, actually. I might get her on one day. I think she likes you, by the way,” Jjong said offhandedly, before hastily changing the subject. “Will you be okay, Taem?”

“Yeah. Thanks, hyung.”

“No problem. You sure you can see my lips?” 

Taemin nodded. 

“And you know what to do if you can't.”

Again, the younger boy nodded. “Tap my fingers on the table, three quavers at a time.” Jjong smiled and gave him the thumbs up. And then, the boys all took their seats, before Jjong started the recording. 

“Today is actually very special for our Blue Night listeners. And this didn't occur to me until earlier, when our guests tonight reminded me.” He smiled. “It's actually been 500 days since Blue Night begun. I know I normally say that anniversaries and birthdays aren't important to me, but there's a special feeling I've got right now. Maybe they do matter to me after all.”

\---

Birthdays, holidays and anniversaries really never had a strong impact on Jjong’s life. 

It always happened. Every autumn, he would start off by getting the flu, and then days became shorter, night fell faster, and he couldn't see his friends as much, which was the perfect recipe for loneliness. And Christmas, New Year and his birthday all fell around the coldest time of the year. 

But when he saw his friends today, and how they were all waiting for him on a roof with the barbecue equipment, he realized that anniversaries were worth celebrating.

And that got him emotional for this broadcast.

\---

After Jjong finished up with the words he always did - “Until now, it's been Jonghyun from Blue Night. I'll come to rest. Goodnight everyone, and as usual, come rest tomorrow.”

And then he smiled, before ending the recording. “How was that? Was I speaking too quickly?”

“That was great,” Jinki assured him. “It went just fine, Jjong.”

Kibum brushed a tear away from the corner of his eyes. “Shit, why am I so emotional? 500 Blue Nights.”

“That’s my role. To be the sentimental sap,” Jjong laughed. “It’s okay, Kibummie. Anyway…thanks for being on today’s broadcast, guys. It’s late. Want to hang here until our driver comes?”

“‘Kay,” Taemin replied. “Want me to call an Uber? Also, who wants gum?”

“No, not the Uber driver. Like, our family’s driver…” Jjong trailed off, not wanting to sound as if he were showing off.

“Wait…” Jinki started.

“Jjong-hyung has a driver?” Kibum asked.

“Um...kind of? Maybe?” the poet answered quietly, like he was embarrassed to show off. 

\---

Since kindergarten, Kibum knew that Jjong was a humble person, but he never knew that Jjong was this humble.

Way back when the two of them were tiny kids in kindergarten, Jjong already had a love for reading and writing. Crazy, but he was reading picture books on his own already. And it wasn’t until one day when he couldn't sleep during nap time, when he picked up a picture book and began reading. The teachers praised him, but he never really took to them; kids called him a genius, but he always taught them as well to prove that it wasn't genius and that everyone could do it. 

And people were always crowding around Jjong-nim and Kibum’s table, asking him to read to them, suddenly befriending him and pretending that just two weeks ago, they weren't making fun of his blond hair. Suddenly, they were his friends and proud of it. 

But Kibum was always proud of Jjong and their friendship, even when no one knew about Jjong-nim the poet. Even when people made fun of the fact that Jjong’s hair had no colour; even when they teased Jjong for not being up to their ‘standards’ of a boy; even when he wrote with his left hand; even when the two boys grew up and they still held hands and were called homosexual slurs, Key was never ashamed. 

Kibum was never ashamed, and he knew he would never be ashamed. If anything, he was over the moon for their friendship. 

Or was it a little more than friendship…?

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After Jjong got Jinki, Minho and Taemin home through his driver, it was just him and Kibum left in the backseat, Jjong’s head on Key’s shoulder, hand in his hair, one of his legs resting on the younger’s lap. Barely any words were exchanged, except for some chit chat about Blue Night, and the occasional ‘I love you’s. 

When they finally got to Jjong’s apartment, they just crashed out on Kibum’s bed, for that was the bottom bunk, and Jjong was too tired to climb up, and they fell asleep with Kibum’s arms and legs wrapped around Jjong. 

\---

It was definitely more than just a friendship. 


End file.
